The Road to Deity
by Stratusfied247
Summary: Wrestlemania XXI approaches and it may not turn out as well as some would hope. Plots and trickery can come in on both sides of a screwjob. TrishRandy (COMPLETED)
1. Faith in Oneself

"I can beat the Undertaker."

Trish Stratus rolled her eyes as she pulled her body upright. She twisted on the bed, dragging herself around until her head was at the foot of the bed. Her legs bent at the knees and she locked her ankles together. Her arms folded and she let her cheek rest against her crossed arms.

Randy Orton had been saying the same thing for weeks. He could beat the Undertaker. He could end the winning streak. He could be a real Legend Killer. Trish may not have been completely sure that she believed he could do it, but more than that, she was almost positive that Randy didn't believe it very much, either. If he did, he wouldn't need to constantly assert and reassert his faith in himself.

"If I just got half a chance… I mean, if I go into this with my head on straight, ya know?"

Trish sighed. WrestleMania wasn't shaping up very well for either of them. She still couldn't believe that she'd gone from having one of the biggest feuds to hit the Women's Division in years, to defending her title against Christy Hemme, of all people. Not that she had anything personally against the woman, but she was what she was. Nice girl she may have been, she was still just a girl that had won a bikini contest, and that did not get her a shot at the title. Or at least, it shouldn't have. And it most certainly shouldn't have given her the opportunity to go for said title at the biggest event of them all.

She knew that, at some point, a girl had to work her way up. Trish had been there for purely T&A value, and she knew that. However, she hadn't decided that she needed to be Women's Champion at her very first WrestleMania, either. It was bad enough that half of the division had been fired, but to push out the two remaining GOOD women's wrestlers for the chick that did Playboy, well… that was just too quick of a leap from T&A to contender for Trish's liking.

And yet, she could at least say that she knew she was going to win. From the start of this thing, she knew she was going to win. Trish had made it very clear that she wasn't about to help them further degrade the championship by going over for someone whose biggest claim to fame had been her label as Juggy Girl. She was sure to let them know that as surely as they were trying to steal AJ Styles away from TNA, they were doing the same thing with her and the remaining women left in the company. TNA promised a women's division that actually got seen… just as soon as they got more women. She wasn't exactly thrilled about the downgrade, but there was only so much disrespect that a girl could take, and the company knew that. They also knew that it wouldn't be too hard for her to take the other girls with her. So, she got to keep her title at WrestleMania. But Randy…

They were still keeping it close to the vest who was going to win. Would the Legend Killer come out on top? Or was the Phenom going to take home his 13th consecutive WrestleMania victory? It was a toss-up and either way, it could be promoted. He was either the unstoppable Undertaker, or thirteen was a very unlucky number for him. They could easily set up their match and just leave the finisher open. Undertaker, despite the lack of entertainment Trish got from watching him, was still a veteran and he knew how to plan a match that could work with either finisher. Be it a Tombstone or an RKO, the match could still be planned out until WWE made up its mind.

"Randy, stop worrying over it." She sighed and rolled over onto her stomach. "Whatever the outcome, you'll still show them that you've got what it takes to be the next great star."

And to think, she had thought that the most vulnerable she would see him was during his concussion. Even that, though, could be explained away with the injury. One usually so self-sure and cocky, the concussion gave him the excuse to be human, to have emotions. To care about his own feelings enough to want someone else to care as well. But now…

As he stood there, staring in the mirror, admiring his sculpted form, the only surety, the only cockiness he held was in that he had a great body. The confidence behind his ability and his destiny were stripped away by the months after his loss to Triple H. Finding himself in that pile of former champions who were lucky to get five minutes of camera time had been detrimental to his ego. The fickle fans who had once cheered him and built him up to a stature of greatness now turned on him and claimed they never liked him in the first place. When combined with those same fickle fans grabbing him and faking their worship for the sake of an autograph, it caused for not only a somewhat self-conscious Rnady Orton, but an aggravated one as well.

"My ass." Randy groaned and turned towards her. "You don't get it, Trish. There's no way for me to come out on top if I don't pin the Undertaker. He's gonna no-sell every fucking move I've got, and what does that show? Not a damn thing. It'll make all my shit look weak, and he'll be this great thing who doesn't have to put anybody over." He sighed and his body drooped. "Ya know, people put him over."

"I know."

"And people still put him over."

"I know."

"So why the fuck is it a big deal for him to put me over, huh? If… If Ric Flair of all people can do it, he can. If Ric Flair, a true fucking legend, can put over me and Dave and can sit there every week and tickle Hunter's ball sack and suffer it all with as much dignity as he has left, then why the fuck can't Taker put somebody over for once in his whole fucking career."

Trish sighed and slowly got up from the bed. She ran her hands through her hair, then let them fall from the ends to drift down her sides. She didn't know what she thought about this particular version of Randy Orton. The cockiness had been sexy. The confidence was alluring. The self-consciousness, though… her instant reaction was to have disdain for it, but there was something attractive about it. His bouts of insecurity made him human, real… It made him more accessible, and the fact that she was the only one that he showed this side of himself to made Trish feel special. It showed her that even though they hadn't spoken a word about the epiphany in the ER, he had meant every word.

She put a hand on his arm and looked up into his eyes as her palm slid down his skin. "Because Ric Flair is respectable. Ric Flair knows that there are more important things than putting himself over at this stage in his career. They'll see, Randy. They'll see that you deserve this win at WrestleMania, and they'll give it to you."

"And if Taker says he won't lay down for me?"

"Well, then… That just shows the McMahons that he's not a team player. That he thinks he's bigger than their decision, and in that case, well..." She looked up at him and smirked. "Remember what happened in Montreal, Randy. Those out of McMahon favor lose one way or another."

"So, I take victory by default?"

"You take victory however you can get it." She leaned in and pressed her lips to his chest. "We all have to take victory how we can get it. It's not always right and it's not always fair, but it's victory, Randy. It's a push, and we all want a push."


	2. Reality Sets In

"Honestly, Randy, if you don't put me down, I'm gonna be forced to scream. Have you HEARD me scream? We're talkin' SIREN volume here."

Trish didn't know what was going on. One second, she'd been standing on her own two feet. The next, she was over his shoulder, being carried out of the women's locker room. She was sure his tendency to walk in and do what he pleased had something to do with the rumors that he had supposedly done this or that to various women in the company. In all honesty, he probably shouldn't have walked so easily into the room, but usually, he at least knocked to ask if anyone was undressed… then proceeded to walk into the room anyway. It was a part of who he was, and anyone who didn't understand that either didn't get him or didn't get the joke in general. And what was the joke? How many girls can you make scream? The answer? One, because the rest will be chasing you with murderous intent.

This time, though, there had been no warning. Luckily, there was only Trish and Molly in the room and both were fully clothed. In the midst of a conversation over their growing dissatisfaction with the company that thought they should be grateful to have a job, Randy burst in and carried her out. Hitting him in the back didn't help, and neither did kicking her feet. She would have preferred to finish her conversation as opposed to being carried around like a cavewoman on Randy's back.

Trish was a little worried about what was going on. He hadn't said a word and his face had been neither excited or angry. She couldn't tell from his expression whether he had gotten good news or bad. All she knew was that he had to go to the Smackdown taping the next day and on tonight, he was going to RKO a legend. Of course, Trish was a little disappointed that the snake would never get out of the bag, but hey… an RKO on Jake "the Snake" Roberts was worth a little disappointment.

Randy veered off, went around a corner, then slid inside the partially open door of an empty room. He closed the door behind him and dropped Trish down on the desk. "Dammit, Randy!" She rubbed her hands over her butt, growling at him. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

He turned to her and his face was still just as blank. He gave her no sign of elation or ire. He was cold, still and she almost wished he'd never turned the light on when they walked into the room. She didn't want to see him that way. She didn't want to see him so far away from her that she couldn't reach him. And yet, he must have wanted her to reach him, otherwise he wouldn't have come to her. He wouldn't have dragged her off.

"You're freaking me out, Randy." Slowly, she slid from the desk and walked towards him. She felt as though she were walking across a bridge and every time she grew closer to the other side, it pushed farther away. She looked up at him and he seemed impossibly tall. "What's going on, Randy? Tell me something."

"I'm supposed to win the match."

And in an instant, the world snapped to normal proportions. She felt as though she'd been shoved forward and stopped with a jerk. Suddenly, she was close enough to touch him and though he'd always been nearly a foot taller than her, he didn't seem quite as much now. "Aren't we supposed to be excited over this?" She reached out and her hand landed lightly on his arm. "This is what we wanted, right? You're ending the Undertaker's winning streak at WrestleMania."

Randy looked down at her with heavy eyes. He should have been excited. He should have been jumping for joy. He should have picked her up, carried her off somewhere and had the best pre-show celebratory sex in his entire life. But instead of ripping clothes from their bodies and dropping to the floor like primates, they were staring at one another across a gap of silence and discomfort.

"He's not going to do it, Trish." His head tilted slightly to the side. The corner of his mouth twitched. Randy blinked, then swallowed hard, twice. He looked down at the hand on his arm, then followed the limb up to the shoulder, over her collar, up her neck. "I saw it in his eyes. This morning…"

"Randy, you're scaring me." She took a step back. "What are you talking about this morning?"

"That meeting… they made up their minds and had a teleconference when we got here. Not this morning. This afternoon." He shook his head. "It's all so fucked up I can barely thing."

Trish stepped back to him and grabbed his face. She forced him to look her in the eye. "Explain it to me, Randy."

"He's not… He's not going to do it. And I can't tell this to anybody but you, because no one's gonna believe me. I'm the asshole, remember? I'm the little shit that doesn't know his place. I'm the…"

"Randy!"

"He's not going to do it! They told him to do the job. They told him the streak was ending. Stephanie McMahon stood behind me and Vince McMahon came in on the speakerphone and said that at WrestleMania, the Undertaker's winning streak is over and I swear to God, Trish, I looked into his eyes and he didn't buy it. Oh, the agreement came out of his mouth, but beyond that…" He shook his head, and this time, his face wasn't blank. His eyes burned and the muscles in his cheeks twitched. "He's gonna do whatever the fuck he wants. He's gonna fuck the end of the match ten ways from Sunday, and the McMahons aren't going to do shit about it. He's gonna fuck me over and they're just going to say that he's the Undertaker. They might fine him, but they wouldn't dare do anything else. They'll just ship my ass over to Smackdown and try to make it up to me, but there is no making up to me when he ruins my goddamned career!"

Trish stared at him with wide eyes. She didn't know what to say. She didn't know what he was saying. There was more to this than just his words. He was thinking of something. He wanted to do something. He wanted to make sure that if he got fucked over at WrestleMania, something would be done about it. If no one else would, then he would.

"I know I have to pay my dues. I get that. But I'm not going to be stepped on. Dave and Ric can stand there and be stepped all over by Hunter his love-blind wife, but I won't. All of these people can act like McMahon is fucking God, but I won't do it, Trish. They don't pay me enough and I don't get enough respect for this shit."

"What do you want to do, Randy?"

"Do you think you're safe?"

She blinked up at him. "What?"

"Do you think you're in the clear? Are you sure it's going to go the way you want it to? How sure are you that, when Lita's over her injury, they won't put it on her, try and turn Christy into the next Trish Stratus and send you to Heat with Molly and Victoria?"

"They wouldn't do that."

"They wouldn't?"

"No." But she wasn't sure. As easy as it was for them to make her, she knew that they could do it again. She didn't want to believe that hey would do it, but it was a possibility. Trish shook her head and took in a deep breath. Air fell slowly from her shaky lip. "What do you want to do, Randy?"

He put his hands on her hips and jerked her forward until their bodies bumped. Randy leaned down and buried his face in her neck. He shoved her hair back with his nose and raked his teeth across her skin. Trish took in an abrupt breath, then let it out in a hiss. Randy kissed his way up to her ear. He bit the lobe gently, tugging, then whispered in her ear. "I want to cover all of our bases, Trish. I want to be ready for whatever they throw at us. And I know you do, too."

"Yes," she hissed, wrapping her arms around his waist. She pushed herself closer to him, until her breasts were crushed against him and she could feel the curve of his diaphragm through his thin shirt.

"Yeah," he muttered, "all our bases covered. We'll show 'em just how much we're worth."


	3. Wrestlemania XXI

**Wrestlemania XXI**

She knew it was coming, and it was still hard to take. The bell rang and suddenly, Trish Stratus wasn't the WWE Women's Champion. Christy Hemme stood there looking bewildered. She didn't seem to have a clue. Of course, Shawn claimed to be clueless about Montreal, but that turned out to be a lie. But, at least Christy had the decency to look confused. Lita, on the other hand…

It took only a glimpse at the redheaded slut to know that she was in on the plan. She hobbled over to the ringside, yanking Christy out and trying to lead her up the ramp. She tossed a smirk Trish's way that made her scream. She had wanted Randy to be wrong. She had prayed for him to be out of his mind, but the second the Undertaker delivered the Tombstone and covered him, Trish knew she was in for a similar fate. She knew that Randy was nowhere near as stupid as people tried to make him out to be.

Filled with rage, Trish rolled out of the ring and ran straight up the ramp. She lowered her body and ran straight into Lita's injured knee. Lita went down screaming and Trish stood up. She stomped her in the stomach, then kicked her knee hard. Christy tried to grab her but one fierce glare from Trish was enough for her to know that she didn't want to get involved in this. Trish went back to Lita and kicked her again. She wanted to be sure that her knee kept her off the shelf for as long as possible. If Vince McMahon wanted some random girl as his champion, then he was stuck with her because there was no way in hell that he would have any women left in the division who could actually get the job done.

When Randy said he wanted to make sure all of their bets was covered, he'd been serious. Since the day he figured it all out, the two of them had been getting their things in order. Calls were made and attorneys were secretly brought in. The double screwjobs they had received that night were enough to get them whatever they wanted. Unless they wanted an amped up replay of what happened with Bret Hart, that ninety day clause was going to be out the window. Originally, they thought they would only be able to get the out for Trish, should the inevitable actually become a reality, but the last thing Trish had heard before walking out to her match was the Undertaker talking softly to someone. She didn't catch it all, but she had heard enough. "Vince owes me for that one," he'd said, and in the end, Vince owed more people than just the Undertaker.

Hands grabbed Trish, pulling her off of Lita. She didn't even realize she'd been on her knees, bashing the woman's head into the ramp until she was yanked off hard. She fought at the hands holding her, scratching at the skin that was revealed by short sleeved referee shirts. She kicked backwards and when her leg connected, she was dropped. Another set of arms wrapped around her, and when she realized who they belonged to, she stopped fighting. She turned to look up into Randy's angry eyes and knew that he had found the truth. He didn't have to say anything for her to realize that he had either heard it for himself, or someone had told him.

Trish's head whipped back around to the crowd. They were on their feet, screaming. The ringside fans were actually laughing as Lita rolled around on the ground. She didn't know if they realized what was going on or not. They seemed to think it was all a part of a storyline, and Trish wished that it was. She wished that this was all an acting job, because then, she wouldn't have had to be so angry. Then, she would have been able to go backstage and shake it off. She wouldn't have to carry the burn with her all night.

She let Randy drag her off and they made their way through the crowd. People pushed against them, and security had to fight to keep fans from getting to them. As it were, some fans still managed to get past to clap their shoulders or get a touch of their idols. It was amazing in its own way. The whole point of both of their storylines had been to further them as heels. All this had done was make everyone love them. It was as though they were fighting the regime, fighting the McMahon machine that did what they wanted, when they wanted because they owned the company.

Randy dragged Trish around the building and out a side door. They took off running and it was only when they reached the car, both winded and still angry, that Trish realized all of her things were still in the building. "Randy!" She tried to pull away from him, but he wouldn't release her. "Randy, my bags!"

"They're already in the car." He practically tossed her inside after opening the door, then slammed it shut. He walked back to the other side and got in.

As they drove off, Trish looked at him. He was still dressed as he had been for his match. His black trunks bunched low on his stomach as his body was bent by the seat. "Randy," she said, blinking at him in confusion.

"I tried to make it out there," he said, shaking his head. "I knew what they were going to do, so they all kept me in the room. Fucking… You know Hunter was in on this shit, too? He and Vince came up with that shit to have Taker go over one me, because my head was getting too big, he said. I would have beaten the shit out of him if there wasn't a wall of security between us. They know I could take his spot and they didn't want me to."

"And they think… what? We're just going to let this happen?"

"They're shipping us off to Smackdown." Randy groaned. "Well, they're shipping me off, at least. My last Raw is supposed to be tomorrow night, then I'm off to Smackdown on Tuesday. You… I don't know what they're going to do. Ya know, for people afraid that you're going to defect, they sure as hell went the wrong way about stopping you."

"It's not just me. I…" She stopped as a faint tune reached her ears. In any other circumstance, it would have been funny. She'd especially enjoyed the look on other people's faces when her own theme music sang out from her pocket. "Where's my phone? I can hear it, but I don't know where it is."

"Glove compartment."

She nodded, grateful that Randy was actually thinking. Though she had watched him slowly start to grow up, it wasn't until he did something that required actual planning that she could actually tell what was going on with him. It was his mind that put the clues together of what would happen, and his mind to set things in motion. Even something as small as putting her phone where she could get to it easily was enough to make her think more of him.

Trish snatched the phone out of the glove compartment and flipped it open just two rings before it would have gone over to voice mail. She listened for a moment as two voices went back and forth. When they died down, Trish said, "Okay, I'll give you the number. Call tomorrow and see what can be done. You can't get out of the clause but, I don't know." She sighed. "Yeah, I'll think of something. But I gotta go. I gotta make another call. Come to our room when you get to the hotel and we'll talk about it."

A few more words and the call ended. Trish looked at Randy and wished she knew what to say. She wasn't going to say that he was right. That would be pointing out the obvious. Anything else just didn't seem pertinent. They were both screwed, and they were expected to show up humbly at Raw the next night. They were expected to stand there and act like they didn't care about what had happened, that they could care less that at Wrestlemania, the grandest stage of them all, they had both been screwed out of their careers. They were supposed to act like they didn't know that the second they went to Smackdown, they would end up jobbing on Velocity. Oh, they might let Taker do more of a squash job on Randy for about a month, and Trish would spend her time putting over Torrie Wilson or Michelle McCool, but in the end, they would both end up at the bottom of the heap. The godhood and immortality that was deserving of the only third generation superstar left on the roster and youngest World Champion in WWE history, the whole one that could have taken Triple H's place as top heel now that The Rock was gone, and the record-setting six time Women's Champion would disappear into the McMahon machine as they ushered forth others who wouldn't come close to taking their place.

"Make the call, Trish."

She sighed and looked at him. "Did you tell them, Randy? In all the screaming and shouting, did you tell them? Do they actually know?"

"They don't know anything. Just make the call."

"Randy…"

"Make the fucking call!" He gripped the steering wheel hard enough for the pigment in his tanned knuckles to lighten. Randy took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "They don't know, but they will tomorrow night. Just make the call and get it all set up. I told you we had to protect ourselves, and that's what we're doing. Because otherwise, we'd be stuck here and they'd have all the power."

Trish sighed and looked down at her phone. She punched in the speed-dial number and waited. Part of her didn't want to do this. She was loyal to the core, and this went against what she believed in. But, loyalty had to be deserved, and there was nothing about Vince McMahon that said he deserved her loyalty. The one who had stood by her was sitting next to her, driving intently to the hotel. Randy deserved her loyalty. Her own career deserved her loyalty. And Vince McMahon could kiss her ass. The other end of the line picked up and she said with a sigh, "Yeah, this is Trish. I'm pretty sure you saw what happened so the only thing left to say is…" She gave one last look to Randy. He nodded at her and she sighed. "We're in."


	4. Payback

Monday Night Raw, live from Los Angeles, CA, was supposed to start with Triple H's victory speech. Unfortunately, an RKO left the World champion flat on his face just behind the curtain and it was Randy Orton's music that blared through the arena and it was Randy Orton and Trish Stratus who strutted down to the ring.

Despite the previous night's humiliation, both walked with their heads high. Trish held on to Randy's bent elbow as he ushered her down to the ring. The crowd was split in half on whether to like them or hate them. A sign that read "Vince screwed Trish… and she enjoyed it even less tonight" told them both that most people thought that last night had been a work. They didn't know the truth behind the drama, but when this segment was done with, they would know the truth.

Randy went up to the apron, then held the ropes open for Trish to step inside. He followed her and after grabbing a microphone, they stood in the center of the ring and looked out. They were a picture-perfect pair in their black suits. They matched down to shining black shoes and baby blue shirts beneath their suit jackets. Trish felt odd without her title over her shoulder, but she was sure that would soon be corrected. It may not have been the WWE title, but it would be gold all the same.

Randy held up the microphone and smirked. "Sorry to interrupt the celebration, but Triple H is eating the floor right now, so his twenty minute regalia of how great he is will have to wait. Batista's ten minute regalia of how great it is to be with Ric Flair again will have to wait. Everybody has to wait because the Legend Killer and the real Women's Champion have something to say!"

At the curtain, security was bursting through, but stopped halfway down the ramp when Randy put out his hand. "You don't want to do that. Believe me. We're extremely pissed off right now, and you do not wanna mess with us."

Trish left Randy's side and climbed out of the ring. She spent a few seconds under the ring before coming out with a weapon that was almost too heavy for her to pick up. She threw a sledgehammer into the ring, then got back inside. Picking it up, she dragged it across the mat and stood beside Randy. He looked down at her and smirked, then looked back up at security. "Trust me, guys. This one doesn't have a foam head."

Randy took the sledgehammer from Trish and slung it over his shoulder. The weight made him grunt and sag for a second, but he brought himself back to his full height then turned back to the crowd. "Let me tell you what happened last night. Wrestlemania. The granddaddy of 'em all. It was a night to go down in history, and it will. It'll go down as the first Wrestlemania where the WWE lost its future." He snorted a laugh. "We all know what wrestling is, and we know how the decisions are made. The decision was made that the Legend Killer would destroy everything in his path. The Undertaker decided to try and break my neck, thanks to Triple H and Vince McMahon."

Trish took the microphone from him and sneered. "There is no way in hell that Christy Hemme can beat me! They set me up! Nobody is stupid enough to believe she beat me. Roll the footage!" She turned towards the Titan Tron as the footage from the previous night's match played. "My arm was up before the ref even reached two! Lita says ring the bell and it rings? What the hell is that?" She turned back to the crowd. "Vince McMahon tried to screw me, but it's not going to work. He can not take me for granted. He can't take Randy Orton for granted!"

"Vince McMahon thinks he runs the world," Randy said, taking the microphone back. "He thinks that buying out WCW and bailing out ECW meant he could do whatever he wanted. But ya know what, Vince? We still have some place to go. And we're not the only ones going." Randy smirked as the Titan Tron showed Molly Holly and Victoria packing their bags and heading out of the arena. "Your entire machine is coming apart."

The microphone passed again to Trish. "All of these people here know who made this company what it was, and it damn sure isn't the lame ass ideas of Vince McMahon in his senility. They know that they made you, even if you want to deny it. They know that Triple H would be nothing if it weren't for the people who gave a damn that he whined for four years! They know that Lita would be nothing if it weren't for their blind devotion for her, even if she is a no-talent whore that slept her way through every company she's ever worked for."

By the time Trish was done talking, Randy had gotten his own microphone. Vince and Stephanie McMahon had also taken their place in the middle of the security patrol. "I'd stop right there," Randy said to them. "I'll crack you in the head with this thing faster than you screwed us last night."

"You were planning to defect!" Vince's face was red. He held tightly to the sides of his wheelchair. Stephanie stood behind him, glaring at the ring. "She was going to take our title and trash it! This is my company, goddammit, and I can do what I want!"

"You do what Triple H wants!"

"Shut up!" Stephanie's voice was as grating and screechy as when she first turned heel with Degeneration X. "This is our company, and you both should be lucky that we only screwed you! We could have fired you!"

"And I could beat your ass, so shut up!" Trish leaned against the ropes and wished she were close enough to Stephanie to slap her. "I've had enough of your garbage! Yes, you made me what I am today, but then you figured I wasn't worth it! Well, I am worth it! Randy's worth it! Molly and Victoria are worth a hell of a lot more than some chick that shook her ass to get my title on her shoulder! And we've found the person who's going to appreciate us… and anybody else that we can get to go with us!"

Randy took her arm and pulled her back to the center of the ring, though they both faced the ramp. "Ya see, Vince, we knew this was coming. We knew you'd screw up. Stephanie, we knew that Triple H was going to try to ruin us, so we were prepared. You should take a class in ethics 'cause see… your ethics, or lack thereof, just made our ninety day no-compete clause null and void. The lawyers will be calling you about that tomorrow. And since we don't have to wait as long as some others did, you can tune in to watch us, too."

"This Friday!" Trish yelled out. The lights went low in the arena and a spotlight opened up in the crowd. They both turned towards the spotlight and Trish yelled out, "On Total Nonstop Action – Impact!"

Jeff Jarrett stood in the middle of the spotlight, grinning from ear to ear. He held a guitar over his shoulder and watched with satisfaction as Trish and Randy climbed out of the ring and made their way towards him. Randy still held the sledgehammer, but his microphone was on the floor. When they reached Jeff, Trish handed him her microphone. They each stood on either side of him and smirked as he rose the mic to his lips and said, "Welcome to your immortality, darlin'." He looked at Trish and winked. He looked at Randy and nodded.

Randy dropped the sledgehammer to the ground, knowing that he couldn't make it that far if they had to run with it over his shoulder. Security was already inching closer and they started to run when the sledgehammer was gone. The first one came up to them and Jeff dropped the microphone. He reared back and slammed the guitar hard over the security guard's head, sending pieces of wood all over anyone standing nearby. He reached down, grabbed the microphone and shouted, "Welcome to Planet Jarrett!"

And then, they were gone.


End file.
